The other me lunged.
Her fingers stretched like claws, glowing veins pulsing, eyes burning white-hot —
aimed straight at my throat.
I screamed.
The stranger moved faster.
Faster than anything human.
He grabbed me by the waist, spun me behind him, and took the hit for me.
Her hand slammed into his chest.
Not physically —
Through.
Her fingers phased into him like she was digging through his memories.
The air shook with a crack like glass breaking.
He gagged.
Stumbled.
Collapsed to his knees.
"STOP!" I cried, trying to pull her away.
She didn't even look at me.
"I'm not killing him," she said sweetly.
"I'm taking back what he stole."
Her hand glowed brighter inside him.
He screamed —
a raw, broken scream that tore something inside me.
His memories flickered out of his body like sparks:
A wedding under a broken streetlight.
A child laughing.
A woman — me — holding his face in her hands.
A kiss that tasted like rain.
Blood.
Fire.
The room where I died.
I watched his past unravel in front of me.
He choked, gripping my hand blindly.
"Anshu— don't— look—"
But I couldn't look away.
I was watching a life I didn't know I lived.
The other me whispered:
"You loved him once.
He loved you more.
That's why he erased everything."
Her hand twisted inside his chest.
He screamed again — louder, hoarser, broken.
"STOP!" I shouted, shoving her.
"I SAID STOP!"
She turned to me slowly, like she was bored.
"You don't get it."
She tilted her head.
"I'm not hurting him."
Her smile sharpened.
"I'm hurting YOU."
A sharp pain stabbed through my skull.
I gasped, clutching my head as memories — not mine, but familiar — smashed into me:
His hands in my hair.
His lips on my forehead.
Me whispering,
"I'll find you again in the next life."
A promise.
A baby crying.
A timeline collapsing.
His voice screaming my name as I died.
I stumbled back.
"No… no, no, no, no—"
The memories cracked.
Shattered.
Were ripped away again.
The other me yanked her hand out of the stranger's chest.
He collapsed forward, gasping, bleeding light.
Not blood.
Light.
As if she had ripped out something cosmic.
He fell into my arms.
"A-Anshu…" his voice was barely a whisper. "Don't… let her… win…"
I cupped his face, panic choking me.
"What did she take? What did she DO to you?!"
He blinked slowly.
"I… don't… know you."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
He looked confused.
Lost.
Broken.
"Who… are you?"
My throat closed.
"No. No, please— you know me. You saved me. You— You said you LOVED me in that timeline—"
His eyes flickered with pain.
"Timeline?" he whispered. "I… don't… remember…"
I felt the world collapse under my feet.
The other me grinned.
"I took back every memory he ever had of you," she whispered in my ear.
"Now he's no longer yours."
The Rememberer growled behind her, glitching violently as if reacting to the broken identities.
The other me backed away into the shadows, smiling as the world cracked around us:
"Your turn is next."
She vanished.
The Rememberer followed her scent like a starving beast.
And I…
I collapsed to my knees, holding him.
The man who had crossed timelines for me.
Destroyed worlds for me.
Loved me in a life I forgot.
Now—
He didn't even know my name.
He stared at me like I was a stranger placing dying light in his hands.
"Please," I whispered, voice breaking, "remember me."
His eyes softened just a little.
Not because he recognized me —
But because I was crying.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I… want to remember. I just… can't."
Something inside me cracked violently.
The universe didn't break me.
He did.
Because losing someone hurts.
But losing someone who LOVED you and watching them look at you like a stranger—
That's a pain no timeline prepares you for.
I bowed my head over his, silent tears dripping onto his shirt.
A small voice echoed behind us.
"Mama…?"
I turned.
The boy stood at the alley entrance — trembling, clutching the doorframe of reality like it was holding him up.
His eyes were wide.
Terrified.
"Mama…" he whispered again, pointing at the stranger.
"He doesn't know you anymore."
I choked on a sob.
"I know," I whispered. "I know."
The boy walked to me slowly.
Then he placed a tiny hand on my cheek.
"It's okay," he whispered. "We'll help him remember."
"How?" I asked brokenly.
He shook his head.
"I don't know."
Then he looked up at the sky.
"But someone else does."
Before I could ask who—
A crack tore open in the air.
A silhouette stepped out.
Tall.
Calm.
Sharp-eyed.
Pretty in a dangerous way.
The boy gasped.
"Mama… that's the one who created us."
The stranger — memoryless, confused, weak — looked up tiredly.
"Who… is that?"
The figure stepped into the light.
And smiled.
"My name," she said, "is Tomorrow."
---